Shattering Magic
by Silverwind10123
Summary: It was supposed to be just another battle for Matthias and Lukas was just another captive. Until Lukas, who is supposed to be a monster, begins to teach Matthias about his own humanity and suddenly all Mathias had ever known turns out to be a lie. These people, called monsters by his own country, have become the innocents and he has become the monster. DenNor, AU, Human names used.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hello everybody! Welcome to Shattering Magic, and if you have never read my story, you can stop reading the A/N and skip right down to the good stuff. If you have read this chapter before keep reading. Now before any of you who have already read my story complain, this chapter has been almost completely edited and doubled in length. My beta the lovely, Nimphy-Ryuu-chan, has told me everything that's wrong with my writing and together we made it better! Yay, teamwork! Ok, just reread the chapter, it's good this time.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my idea**

"You are going completely against your father's wishes."

"I know."

"He will get angry."

"I know."

"He will get angry at me too."

"I know."

Berwald watched as the young prince Lukas settled onto the branch of a pine. Needles brushed against his face in greeting and the tree gently yielded to accompany his weight. The smell of the pine surrounded him, bringing back memories of falls spent collecting pinecones. He balanced on the bark like a bird, unsettling only a little snow causing it to fall towards the ground. It landed in a small pile next to Lukas's advisor causing him to move back in case of more falling snow.

They were occupying a tree on the edge of a clearing covered in a blanket of snow. The frost had spread across the land, turning it into a white, blank slate. It looked desolate of life, but both hunters knew that they just had to wait. Berwald surveyed the clearing, looking for the tale tell rustle of life and he knew that the prince was doing the same above.

The land was truly magnificent, especially when it was gilded in winter's silver touch. From the tree Lukas could see over the tops of snowcapped trees and towards the icy ocean, vast and violent. Its waves were as foreboding as they were dangerous, but they hid some of the most precious items inside its watery depths. Behind Lukas was the Spine of the Earth, a huge mountain range that seemed to go until the horizon's end. None of Lukas's people had ever been over the Spine and Lukas would prefer to keep it that way. This valley was the only place he had ever known. It was beautiful, powerful and terrifying, but the snow-covered land was his home and where he felt at peace. All he needed was his family and his home. He knew that all his people felt that way.

Lukas sat with an arrow notched and purple eyes gleaming. He closed his eyes and breathed in, slowly letting the magic surrounding him wash into his body. At first it felt like he was drowning. Magic poured into him and sent a tingling sensation all the way to his bones. It turned his blood cold, almost freezing it until the magic took a sudden change in temperature igniting his blood and lighting it on fire.

The magic settled inside him, filling him with energy and power that came with it. His body was a container for the magic and it coiled within him ready to be tapped into. Lukas could feel life surrounding him. Everything was held together by the magic, it was the link underneath independent lives connecting them in an intricate web. The frost with its hidden, mystic presence touched everything, but didn't take a form itself. The trees, sleeping giants avoiding the frost in hibernation, but waiting for the sun to bring them back into the warmth. The animals, each individual, but completely relying on each other in order to survive in the vast tundra they called home… He could feel all their magic in its ever-present and intimidating force. However, through all of its force, magic was a lullaby. It serenaded him to sleep at night and comforted him with a warm presence that he could always fall back upon. There was nothing in the world that made him feel smaller, but there was also nothing in the world that made him feel so at peace. He quieted his mind and narrowed down the magic, reining in its scope so that he could only feel the magic in the clearing. Even then, it was almost overwhelming.

Lukas felt the presence of the magic pressing against him from all sides. Then he felt Berwald touch his mind, relieving the burden and easing the pressure of the magic.

"Thank you." Lukas said silently, knowing that even though no words were spoken Berwald could hear him perfectly. The man below just nodded

Every one of Lukas's people was born with the ability to connect with magic. They opened their mind allowing magic to influence them and in turn they influenced magic. The ability allowed them to sense and connect the minds around them. They could also control magic and ask it to do their bidding, but every favor comes at a price. At many times the price could cost more than just the person's life and affect the omnipresent, but delicate web of magic causing detrimental consequences.

Suddenly, another mind entered the clearing and both the men focused their attention. The mind wasn't human; it was more simplistic and based used instinct rather than reason to keep it alive.

A deer slowly walked into the field. It almost pranced because it had to lift its legs out of the snow and keep itself nimble.

Lukas moved silently and fluidly, raising the bow and holding the shaft of the arrow eye level, aiming at the heart of the deer. In an instant, the arrow went flying and the bowstring strummed. He felt the arrow move in the air and, with the magic surrounding, he felt the animal's life flicker. Death came quick as the deer was brought down in a single shot and its magic dispersed into the air.

Both men were silent for a second, before Lukas began to climb down from the pine tree. He descended his way down branches, and set his feet on thick boughs that could hold his weight. Once he reached the bottom, Berwald approached the deer and Lukas went to retrieve the arrow.

"It was a nice shot, your highness." Berwald said as he began to heave the deer onto his shoulders. "Hopefully, the size of the deer will influence the anger of your father." His face didn't show emotion, but the slight tone of his voice showed some sarcasm.

Lukas's face remained blank except for a small twitch in his smile.

It was another characteristic of his people. Their faces showed almost no feeling and they kept their emotions calm. Many times they hardly spoke at all, using communication through the mind rather than speech. People within the clan could easily tell emotion because they had grown up around still faces, but outsiders could not. Emotion, though not told on the face, was at the utmost importance for Lukas's people. Emotion was considered something sacred and only shown to people that one trusted completely. It was a quiet force, but truly intimate and beautiful. It was the reason why his people kept their faces still, instead speaking with their minds and eyes.

The two made their way back home, surrounded by silence and magic.

* * *

Snickers went around the camp. All of the soldiers were anxious and hopped from one foot to the other to release some of the energy. Matthias just smiled at his troop and flashed a wink. They really were the best people he could ask to go into battle with him. Every one of them was familiar with war and willing to give their life for their prince and captain. They didn't treat Matthias like a royal or a pompous stuck up snob. They treated him like one of the guys and that was the best thing in the world. He just loved being able to escape from being a prince and break out from his luxurious birdcage. Sometimes he just felt like his father was trying to kill his fun. The only time he really made it out of the stupid palace of boredom was when he got to go fight.

Ah, the battle. It had to be the best thing ever. It got your blood pumping and your heart racing better than any beer on the planet. The rush of victory was awesome. The thrill of striking the first blood and feeling a monster crumbling under his touch was a feeling he craved for almost every night and day. The rush of battle wasn't his only reason for an attraction to the battlefield. No, his real joy came from knowing that by striking down an enemy he made his own country safer, his country that he loved almost more than himself. It was almost like he was one with his people, because he felt so in tune with the kingdom that he would one day rule.

"When do you plan to attack?" Matthias had been dreaming of battle when his second-in-command's voice behind him shattered his little dream world. He turned towards the man, quickly finding him despite thick forest foliage and shadows from the trees.

His second was a tiny scrap of a man named Tino. He was the kindest person Matthias had ever met and his face held a childlike innocence, giving him a gentle air. He wasn't what you would expect for the prince's right hand man or the person to fight through numerous battles, but he was the best shot that Matthias had ever met. He had even managed to outshoot the prince himself, even though if someone were to ask Matthias about the shoot out Matthias would insist that he won instead of Tino.

Matthias pretended to think about his second's question and looked at the sun as if he could tell time from it (everyone in the troop knew he couldn't: navigation was Tino's job for a reason).

"After consulting the spirits of the sun and the stars," Tino almost face palmed. "I have decided that we should go to battle now."

The whole troop cheered, laughing and raising their flasks full of beer to their captain. Matthias raised his own and they all chugged the golden drink. It was a sacred pre-battle ritual observed by every man.

The past two months Matthias's troop had been scouting a large area, slowing picking it apart and trying to locate the nest of the monsters. The area was heavily wooded and covered in deep snow making it hard to gain any territory. They had faced blizzards, climbed mountains and walked across ice-laden lakes all in search for the nest and about a week ago they had found it. In that week, they had been circling the valley where the nest was and steadily preparing for an attack on the monsters.

The Norges were the true bane of the earth. Every Dane was taught to hate them from birth because of their blood thirst. The Norges had no feeling, no emotion and were just cruel killing machines. Matthias had only met one once in his life and it terrified him so much that every detail of the memory was scorched permanently into his brain.

He had been on the battlefield conquering a small village of a neighbouring kingdom. The battle hadn't been that hard or brutal and his troop was counting it as an easy win. Really, they were more worried about getting out of the summer heat then they were about fighting the villagers. That was until the village unleashed their final weapon.

The monster itself was beautiful. It looked like a pretty girl with long, blonde hair and the fairest skin Matthias had ever seen. Her eyes, though. Her eyes were deep cerulean that scorched with a hellfire so vicious that Matthias stopped in his tracks. The hatred that those eyes showed even though the face was blank unnerved him until he felt like the monster's very gaze burned him. Nobody had ever looked at him with so much hate before and the eyes began to cause terror to lace through his veins. The gaze was like an omen or a knell ringing in a grey sky, warning about coming destruction.

The air pressure dropped suddenly and he felt the warm air begin to chill. His breath began coming out in wisps and his sweat froze against his skin. The cold radiated from the air. The ground seemed to churn under him, forcing him to widen his stance, so he didn't lose balance. The earth kept shifting and when he looked down he saw that it was laden with frost. His eyes shot back to the monster and he felt stupid for taking his eyes off of it. It had begun to move taking slow, deliberate steps and leaving a trail of ice in its wake. It was like a panther, sleek, fluid, equally beautiful and dangerous.

Then one of Matthias's men attacked. He launched himself at the thing with a sword raised. The monster didn't blink an eye. It dodged, and kicked a foot out, causing the man to fall. The monster was upon him in an instant and held the front of his shirt in a delicate hand. The air grew thicker and colder. The monster raised its other hand, and the wind rushed to it like a dog coming at the call of its master. Its face was completely emotionless, but Matthias saw a sickening triumph in its eyes. He could only watch as the air continued to gather towards the monster, raising around it and growing in size. Then, the monster drew the hand controlling the wind over the chest of the man and the gale began pushing down. His chest bent in as the bones in his ribcage were slowly broken and crushed. His face was the picture of suffering and he was desperately trying to breathe but the weight against his chest kept him from drawing a breath. He was trying to move limbs, but they were also being pressed to the ground, so all he could do was stare at Matthias, his captain, begging him for help. Matthias couldn't move. His terrified body wouldn't listen even as his mind screamed to help his man. All he did was stood transfixed as the man suffocated and his body was reduced to a flattened heap.

Then, the monster looked at him and gave him a smile that would haunt him for the rest of his life. The monster had just finished torturing a man, yet it still had the gall to smile. Matthias felt fury course through him, breaking the terror that froze him, and he launched at the monster. Around him, his men attacked as well, each with their weapons raised and revenge in their eyes. They all surrounded the monster, but the monster's wind kept forcing them back and away from its mistress. Matthias knew that no matter how many times they attacked the monster was still able to protect itself and keep them from landing a blow.

In the end, the battle against the blasted creature was long and bloody. The monster had crushed many more men, but some soldiers had managed to break through the gale and attack the monster directly. Those hits weren't enough, even though Matthias could see that it was severely injured. The blade of Tino's knife eventually claimed the life of the beast when he managed to slice open the side the monster's neck. The end of the beast was almost as bad as the beast itself. The wound wasn't enough to kill it instantly, but Tino cut open a vein and the monster began dying from blood loss and suffocation. He knew it was a monster that lay dying, but when Matthias looked at the beast all he saw was beautiful girl in obvious pain and agony, as she died a slow death. The suffering in her eyes almost forced Matthias to comfort her in some way, but the more he looked at her the more he could see his own friend's death. The girl was not a girl, it was a monster. A monster in human form, but a monster with no feeling or no heart. Something brutal and incapable of love.

Matthias shook his head trying to expel the disturbing memory of the battle with the Norge. He had to focus. He couldn't let one memory shake him up, not now when his target was straight ahead. The nest of the monsters was only a few hundred feet in front of him. He could vaguely see their camp and his eyes caught on the motion of the monsters moving about. Just seeing so many of the beasts caused shivers to run up his spine and what he really wanted to do was just turn around and head home. For once, leave a battle and let the monsters continue their own happy existence far away from him. But letting them live, meant letting them continue to be a danger for his own country. He couldn't do that. He had to exterminate all the Norges, so that his own land could live in peace.

He shifted his battle-axe in his hand. The handle was warm because of how hard he gripped it and the sharpened blade glittered slowly when it caught the sun. It was comfortable, familiar and had served him many times before. It would serve him again.

He hefted the battle-axe over his shoulder and caught the attention of his troop with a quick snap of his fingers. Immediately, he felt ever eye on him as his men waited for him to give an order. Slowly and silently, he moved his hand in a circular motion, signaling his men to begin to fan out and surround the nest. The soldiers instantly moved and disappeared into the trees, each taking their designated position. Then, they began to move in and the nest was quickly coming into view.

It wasn't what he expected. He had thought the nest would be some kind of cave or gaping hole in the earth, maybe with some blood splatters for effect, teeming with monsters. No, the monsters seemed to have an organized society with homes and stuff. It almost looked like a quaint village. It looked like so many small towns Matthias had visited in his lifetime, but he knew that this nest couldn't be like any of the villages his people called home. The monsters weren't civilized and they couldn't establish order. This place was just a nest, not a home, because monsters couldn't have homes.

Matthias heard someone come up beside him and he looked down to see Tino standing tensely with his knives clutched tightly in his hands. The man looked up and smiled at him, but Matthias could easily see it was forced. His second was just as nervous as he was and he had every right to be. Tino was there with him when they had met the she-monster.

The battle would have to begin soon or else his men would begin to get fearful. Each of them had either been at the battle with the she-monster or had heard terrifying tales about it, so leaving the men to think about the horror of the monsters was not the best idea. His men were bravest of the brave and they had proven that by accepting to come with Matthias on this quest, but the Norges were enough to make any man weak to his knees.

Matthias gave a shrill whistle, a signal to catch the men's attention. After a short pause, he whistled again, two short sounds then a long one. Now all he would have to do is wait five more seconds and then would attack.

3... 2… 1…

And they charged. The monsters didn't seem to know what was happening and Matthias's troop was able use that to their advantage. They came from all sides and forced the monsters to stay in their camp. Swords rushed to meet skin, and blood flew into the air. There wasn't the sound of metal against metal because the monsters still had yet to gather their weapons. Instead he could hear children crying and screaming. It didn't matter that they were children. Matthias had to make sure that every one of them was killed regardless of age or sex.

He heard a scream coming towards him and looked to see a young child running from one of his men. The man had a bloody dagger raised in one hand and the other arm was reaching out to catch the small monster. The tiny monster had tears dripping down its face and was crying in a language Matthias didn't recognize. The child was running towards him with its arms outstretched. He felt the its small body slam against his leg and its fingers grasping the fabric of his pants. It buried its face into his pant leg and the tears began seeping through so he could feel them on his skin. He knew that these beasts were deadly, but how could he be afraid of one so small. A child was a child, despite its species. Matthias felt his heart constrict and guilt settle into his stomach like a rock. He couldn't bring himself to look down at the young monster. If he saw those begging eyes or the face pleading for help he knew that he would not be able to bring himself to kill the monster. Instead, he slowly brought his hand to his hip, searching for the hilt of his dagger. With the other hand he rubbed small circles in the child's back and tried to calm the monster down a bit. He found the dagger and gently raised it to the child's neck. He heard a gasp when he smoothly slid the blade across the monster's throat, killing it instantly. The small body slumped even more against his leg and Matthias carefully moved it to the ground.

He hated war when it was something like this. Battle was supposed to be full of adrenaline, a constant rush and a heart-lifting victory. A battle was two sides clashing, both fighting for their honor. Battles were not meant to be fought with children. Children were put on the earth to be loved, not thrown into a battle against trained warriors. They were innocents in every way, too young to fully understand the evils of the world.

Matthias felt anger swell inside of him, rising up like a tidal wave. Things weren't supposed to be this way, yet fate had seemed to spit in his face. He was angry at the circumstances, he was angry at fate and, most of all, he was angry with himself.

He released his anger in the only way that seemed fit on a battlefield. He killed. All he could see was red as he roared and swung his battle-axe. Fear didn't seem to exist any more, in fact he didn't feel anything at all. His head was focused on one thing and that was extermination. He saw figures of the Norges trying to fight back, but he was merciless, killing them with swift blows. His blade whistled through the air and he swung it like it didn't weigh anything at all. Matthias panted and he began to feel himself coming to his senses. The blade, which had just seemed weightless, now felt like a ton of bricks. He risked a glance behind him and saw a trail of bodies butchered beyond recognition.

Suddenly, he felt the air change and the temperature plummet. He scanned the area and looking for the source. He saw many Norges gathered into a group, seemly centered around one beast in particular. He recognized the leader of the Norges exactly when he saw him. He was one of the largest Norges and basically emitted power. It swelled around him, a raw force just like the one with the she-monster, but this one was much stronger. It moved with him and lowed with his every motion, waiting to be used. His eyes were purple and held the same poisonous blaze that the she-monster's had. The pure hatred and rage of a beast.

Matthias felt all the bravery that had been fuelled by his anger vanish. He could never fight this thing alone. He probably couldn't fight, even if fifteen men helped him. The leader was too strong, Matthias could see that before the fight even started.

"Tino!" Matthias shouted and he searched for his second. Tino appeared almost instantly at his side with weapons ready. He had sweat and blood dripping down his face, but he still managed a small smile to his leader. "Set the fire." Matthias said. Tino nodded and moved towards where the troop had set up explosives. Matthias, although he could be a pretty obvious person, wasn't stupid. Faced against so many monsters with just his troop he would never win, so he had to conjure up a plan and seeing the leader's power, he was so glad he did.

He felt the fire before he saw it. The heat swelled around him and lit every house in the Norges's land. The flames licked the sides of the houses, eating at the wooden doors and the thatched roofs, cutting off any means for escape for a monster inside. The roofs began to cave, weighed down because of the ashes. Eventually, they fell in completely and the fire blazed inside of the homes. Anything caught inside would be incinerated.

Matthias refocused his attention on the leader of the Norge. It didn't move a muscle and seemed frozen on this spot. Its eyes were transfixed on the fire as it ate the monsters. Matthias could almost see pain in those hateful eyes, but he knew he must have imagined it. These people didn't feel anything, not even pain. He rushed towards the leader swinging his battle-axe. He expected to be hit and crushed by the air surrounding him, but all he felt was the axe hitting its mark. The sensation of his axe tearing through muscle was common for Matthias, but for just once in his life the feeling was foreign. The leader still had his eyes to the fire and the dead that lay all over the camp. The eyes were now wide, blank and empty. Slowly, the leader turned its head towards Matthias. It stared at him with a look Matthias had only seen a few times in his life; it was the look of someone that wanted to die. He watched the leader's life slip away, the pain slowly fading from its eyes.

The leader fell and hit the ground, just an empty shell of what used to be terrifying. The monster used to hold such horrifying power and was able strike fear with a gaze. Matthias had had nightmares about meeting the Norges' leader and now the source of his fear was lying in its own puddle of blood. Matthias began to back away from the body. Something was off, something felt so wrong. The leader hadn't even fought back against him; nothing that powerful would go down without a fight. Matthias shuddered as guilt began to rear its ugly head again, but he blocked out the feeling though. He had come do a job, and the job involved death, so he would just have to deal with the guilt. He couldn't keep looking at the body, so he turned around to see that the whole camp had been annihilated. Everything was burnt to the ground. The houses were reduced to rubble and were barely recognizable. The bodies of male, female and young monsters were scattered through out the camp, some of them burning because of the fire. Red stained the snow creating an eerie effect of a village washed in blood. No monster had survived, that was clear to him. Their job was done.

"Men!" he shouted and his soldiers quickly came to him. They lined up and Matthias silently took role to see if anyone was missing.

He first counted his soldiers. They were all there, except for one. He felt himself freeze. Then slowly he counted again, this time saying each soldier's name under his breath. He hadn't been wrong the first time, he was still missing one man and he felt a rock drop in his stomach when he realized who was missing.

"Tino isn't here." He whispered. His troops were watching him closely. They could tell that something was wrong and they murmured to themselves.

"Tino isn't here." He said louder for the soldiers to hear. He was panicking now, but desperately trying to keep a straight face for his men.

"Find him." He commanded and the men spread out trying to find the boy, and hopefully not his corpse. No, Matthias couldn't think like that. Tino had to be alive, it just wasn't possible for him to be dead. He would never let himself be killed in something as trivial as a battle. He was Tino! What would be able to kill Tino? An emotionless, heartless bloodthirsty monster, that's what.

"I'm here, Matthias, you can stop your little mental break down now." Matthias whipped around and saw Tino softly laughing at him. Instantly, he ran over to the man and put both of his hands on his second's shoulders, before searching him for injuries. Tino was tired, Matthias could see it in his eyes, and he had a few cuts here and there, but he was fine. Once he knew that Tino wasn't going to die any time soon, he wrapped his arms around him, giving him a bone-crushing hug.

"Don't you ever scare me like that ever again! That's an order." Matthias pulled back to look him in the eyes and Tino smiled at his captain.

"Calm down, Matthias. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, so you don't have to worry. Okay?" Matthias scrunched up his face and mumbled something about always worrying under his breath. Tino rolled his eyes at the childishness, but couldn't help feeling bad for making his captain worry.

"Captain," he said catching Matthias's attention. "I brought something for you." Instantly, his eyes lit up and Matthias looked curiously at his second. "Come on." Tino began leading him away from the Norge's camp. A few of the men tried to follow them, but Matthias waved them off and told them to begin burning the bodies of the dead. He had no idea where Tino was going or what he was going to show him until he saw two figures tied to the truck of a tree by ropes.

His breath caught in his throat. He wasn't afraid, just surprised. Why would Tino leave two Norges alive when they had killed off all the rest of them? What was special about these two? He carefully approached the monsters, taking slow deliberate steps.

The first one was a tall, hulking figure that looked strong enough to snap a man in two. It didn't have the same aura of power like the leader and the she-monster, but it still held a menacing strength about it. It was blindfolded, but seems to be staring straight. Matthias was struck by the stillness of the monster. It seemed so composed like it wouldn't deign itself to struggle.

The monster next to the tall one began to move and tried to break free. Matthias took another step forward and looked closer at the second monster. When he got a good look at the Norge's face, it nearly took his breath away. Even though it was bound and blindfolded too, Matthias could tell it had a beautiful face. Its skin was perfectly white as if it had been kissed by the cold and flawless as if it had never seen hardship or trouble. Its hair was a golden blonde, but not a bright yellow, the color was soft and subtly accented by the pale skin. Its body was lithe and slight like a bird's, but Matthias knew there was monstrous power in it. Power surrounded the beast just like the leader's did, but it didn't intimidate Matthias so much. Now that almost the whole monster population had been exterminated in a single sweep, the power didn't seem as scary, more like a fairytale that used to scare a child. Why did these monsters have to look so human? It would be so much easier if they were ugly, but no, they were beautiful.

"Why didn't you kill them?" Matthias asked almost silently. At his voice, the beautiful monster instantly stopped struggling and went as still as its counterpart. It seemed to be glaring at him, even though Matthias knew that the monster couldn't see through the blindfold.

"I know that sometimes you take captives." Tino said with a smile. Matthias couldn't help but smile, too, maybe he could use this to his advantage.

He did love presents after all. Why not bring back something he could gloat with? He could showcase them to his people and to his father. He would be known as the man who conquered the monsters and these two captives could be living proof. Anyways, if anyone could tame these heartless beings, he knew that he could.

"Tino, I think I will keep these captives. They could prove very useful, don't you agree? Let's bring them back to the camp. I'm sure we will have a lot of explaining to do to the troops" He began heading back to camp, smiling the whole way about how awesome it was that he was bringing back captives.

**A/N- Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: ATTENTION! : If this is your first time visiting this story, then you can skip this part. However, if you are a returning reader, then please go back and make sure you read the revised Chapter 1. It was basically rewritten, and has IMPORTANT new content that is critical to the story. Thank You.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or its characters.**

**Now on to the chapte****r!**

Lukas opened his eyes, and it was dark.

He tried to remember what had happened, but a great, gaping hole stretched itself across his mind. There was pain. Deep, throbbing pain embedded in the back of his head, pulsating like waves against a sea cliff. With each crash, there came a slight, distorted memory. Each of them was a fragment of what had happened and Lukas was left desperately trying to piece them together. A man, a scream, nothing, his back against the hard bark of a tree, foreign voices with foreign words, then darkness. Intense, infinite darkness, surrounding him and covering every inch of his body.

Someone had stripped of his warm furs and hide boots, leaving him with single layer of clothes and a sense of vulnerability. The fabric was thin and did little to help against the cold and only managed to faintly warm his body. His breath caught in the back of his throat, coming out ragged. He tried to move his arms, but the rope from before was still biting into his wrists and keeping them firmly bound in front of him. His chest desperately tried to contract. His lungs tried to take in the air. His head screamed at him, trying get him to breathe. Every part of his body clung to the tiny bits of oxygen left in his veins. Panic blossomed in his chest and it grew until it was rushing over him like tidal waves. His heart hammered against his ribcage, threatening to give out. He moved his eyes trying to catch the light, but there wasn't any. It was too dark. Please, it was too dark. It was swallowing him.

Darkness was deadly and evil. It was a simple rule among his people that was taught to every little one. Darkness was a snake with razor-edged fangs. It consumed everything and slithered everywhere, even into the minds of people. Darkness always laid coiled, prepared to strike, and when it did strike, it conquered. Its poison would invade and infiltrate, until there was nothing, but the darkness itself.

Magic was built upon light. Magic flowed with life and light, and together they made everything natural in the universe. The three danced together to a tune only they could hear, the same tune that decided the fate of the world. Everything held light; even the nighttime had been given the moon and the stars, so that Earth's beings would never have to experience complete darkness.

And now Lukas was in complete darkness with no light to guide him. The magic was gone and for the first time in his life he felt completely alone. Maybe he was blind? The thought shook Lukas and panic flashed across his mind. Being blind was the worst fate for one of his people. He had seen the blind before and he knew they never lived very long. They were usually hunters who had returned to the village without sight because of an injury during the hunt. Their family would flock around them and care for them as best as they could, but the hunters would always lay awake, screaming about being alone, even though their family surrounded them, they would scream about being alone. Without vision, there was no light, no magic, they could not feel the life around them. The blind could discern the warmth of a touch or hear the tone of a voice, but they might as well be interacting with a corpse. Magic connected Lukas's people, and without it they were defenseless. Eventually the hunters would succumb to darkness and lose their mind.

He could lose his mind, too. Nobody would come to help him at all. He would scream, but nobody would hear him. He would die here in an unknown place. He would die in the dark. His body would rot. It would fester. Only his bones would be left.

Thoughts about his own death kept rising and crashing over one another like waves in a typhoon. He could feel the darkness nipping at him, taking small bits here and there. Lukas curled in on himself, trying desperately to dislodge the macabre scenes his mind was conjuring. He forced himself to breathe. It came out thick with fear and it convulsed on his tongue. His chest heaved for air and sent shudders that ripped like an earthquake through his body. Slowly, he began regaining himself, calming his chest and leveling his breathing into rhythmic intakes. He couldn't think about going insane. Thinking like that would only drive him closer to the edge and it made his situation almost too real to bear.

He needed to think logically. Without his sight, he couldn't access magic, so using it wasn't an option. He was trapped, bound and blinded, but he still had his quick mind and he would use it to escape. But to do that first he needed to figure out where the hell he was.

He took a deep breath and began to focus. Immediately, achingly familiar smells and sounds assaulted him. The scent of pine and damp bark permeated the air, the perfume of Lukas's childhood. The forest's melody, thunderous winter silence, was the sound of Lukas's youth. This place seemed so familiar. But it wasn't. The aroma of evergreens was broken by the sharp, distinct scent of burnt wood and dirty clothes. Thick, hard masculine voices clashed with the snow's tranquility. The words were foreign and strange, but Lukas knew them. It was the language of his capturers. A fire and the voices of men, he must have been in some kind of camp. He leaned back and hit the cold, hard surface of a wall. The binds on his wrists and legs seemed to cut deeper than they ever had before. Realization settled in the pit of his stomach like a rock. He was trapped. Trapped in the camp of his enemies.

He felt his heart begin to sink as his plans for escape grew more and more impossible. His chances of getting out of the ropes were slim to none and, if he even did get out, then how would he be able to escape? He had no idea who is capturers were, what the hell they wanted or what they'd do to him if he was caught again. His face paled. If he was caught again they would probably torture him or worse.

If only he hadn't silenced his magic as he and his advisor were coming back from the hunt. By quieting his senses, he relieved himself of the pressure that inevitably came with using magic, but it also made himself unaware and vulnerable to anyone who approached him. In his obliviousness, he hadn't noticed the soft footsteps of the enemy trailing both of them. Their capturer had been smart. If he had attacked in the open clearing, Berwald would have sensed him and snapped his neck before the man could touch Lukas. The attacker had waited until Lukas and Berwald had entered the forest. The thick trucks of the trees and the heavy snow made it difficult for the men to walk next to each other. Berwald, who was still carrying the deer, was trailing far behind and Lukas had impatiently trekked ahead. When the man finally struck, Lukas was completely exposed. He couldn't even manage a cry for help before his world was covered by darkness.

He could only blame himself. Berwald had always warned against him silencing his magic, saying that he would get pounced upon by a pack of hungry wolves. He had chosen comfort over safety though, and now here he was, captured. Tied up like a pig until one of the men chose to kill him. He deserved it and he had led not only himself, but Berwald, an innocent man, into the jaws of the enemy.

Suddenly, he felt someone touch him. Lukas' heart skipped a beat and he scrambled back, trying get away from the rough hand. His back hit the wall and pain jolted down his spine. He continued to push against it, desperately trying to hide or sink into the rock.

Then, he was touched again and a hand grabbed his chin, forcing it upwards. The fingers were definitely human and he could feel five of them splayed beneath his jaw, but they felt completely foreign against his skin. They were rough and calloused made so through battle. When Lukas tried to press his head back down, they dug harder into his jaw, burying themselves into the soft area beneath his chin. He fought to keep his face neutral and show no emotion, but the fear pulsing through him was making the task nearly impossible.

A voice was speaking to him but Lukas couldn't understand the language. The words were garbled, like the person had stones in their mouth. It wasn't gentle at all, not like his language that rolled off the tongue in almost musical tone. No, the speech sounded cruel, comprised of short, hard remarks.

The voice laughed, which sounded just as terrible, then it suddenly stopped. Lukas strained his ears, trying to get a hint to where the voice was and where his captor was standing. All he heard was silence. Deep, infinite silence until hot breath flooded his ear and the rumbling words were next to his face. Lukas stifled a scream as it tried to rip through his throat, choking him and taking his breath.

He desperately tried to scramble away. His limbs jerked in awkward movement, trying to flail despite the bonds, until his balance failed him and gravity yanked him to the ground. In an instant, his face hit the dirt and warm blood mixed with the cold grit of the Earth. The rough ground grated his skin, tiny rocks becoming tiny daggers. Hopelessly he tried to right himself. His restrained arms attempting to push himself up, but they were useless. Completely useless. His other muscles screamed at him as they ripped and tore, buckling under his weight, sending him to the ground again and again. It was hopeless, so damn hopeless. All he could do was struggle on the ground like a worm. A weak, useless worm. His heart was in his throat and pounded even more. The beats were erratic, each one bleeding into another, unevenly quickening and slowing. His heart was going to give out. It was going to shut down. His heart, as it pounded and pummeled the sides of his ribcage, was going to burst. And he was going to die.

The voice was laughing again, the laughter that sounded like a thunderstorm or an earthquake, a catastrophic event. It was laughing at him, the weak, useless worm. He was on the ground, shaking in complete fear and the voice was laughing, like this was all some kind of joke. He hated the voice. He hated the laughter. He hated whoever was doing this to him. He hated being so weak.

He couldn't take it anymore. Even though he had years of practicing a perfectly calm and a perfectly blank face, he just couldn't take it anymore. He was angry. He was furious. He was filled with dark, inky hatred that burned through his soul. But, he was helpless and captured, unable to attack. So he glared, pouring ever ounce of hatred into his eyes, and growled through gritted teeth. The laughter ceased immediately, but then more alien words were spoken. They were harsher and angrier, coming closer and closer until Lukas could tell that the man's face was right in front of his. The words kept coming, low and quick. Lukas scowled more and, as the voice was in mid-speech, he spit right into the face of the man.

The voice ceased and it was silent, the calm before the storm. Lukas didn't even realize it was coming. He was waiting for more foreign words, but they never came.

Suddenly, he was kicked in his side and agony ripped through his veins. The pain burned into his side, lacing his ribs with fire and searing tender flesh. It twisted and coiled, taking his breath and swallowing his oxygen. All he felt was the pain, and the hatred. The dark, black, vile hatred. Deeper than any sensation, deep enough to pierce the soul. It swelled up, like a tumultuous tide, and inundated him. It washed over the pain, replacing it, swallowing it, burying it deep into Lukas's mind. All his thoughts were gone, they too were flooded with the hatred. He didn't think, he moved. He reacted. He fought. He would do anything, anything to survive.

A small chuckle rang over Lukas, sickening him. Then, the smooth, soft, metallic hiss of iron being drawn pierced the air. The noise was a single toll, an iron bell that only lasted for a second, but, to Lukas, it pealed like thunder. In an instant, the knife met the delicate skin of his inside arm. It rested there, the blade kissing pale flesh, until ever so steadily it began to dig into his arm.

The pain in his side was forgotten as his mind raced for any possibility for escape. He tried to tug his arm away, break the man's grip, get away from the pain. He just had to. He had to. He had to do something. Anything. Anything to get away. But it was hopeless. And with every pull, the knife gouged more muscle and bathed in more hot, sticky blood. His body, so desperate for escape, pushed the knife in further, closer to the bone. And Lukas knew it. He could hear his brain screaming at him, but he couldn't stop

Then, the knife pulled itself out of his arm and slid under the bounds against his wrists. In a quick motion, the man flicked the knife and immediately, the restraints stopped biting. The knife taken away and replaced by rough fingers that made him feel naked. The touch trailed down his arm in an almost gentle fashion, ghosting over the fresh wound until it reached the end of the limb. The hand wrapped itself around his wrist, holding it delicately.

Lukas wanted to faint and black out before the man could cause him any more pain. He wasn't supposed to feel pain. He was never meant to feel pain and he had never truly felt it before today. He was a prince, an heir to his father's throne. Kings didn't feel pain. It was for the subjects. He was above pain… Wasn't he? Isn't that what being a leader meant? Pain was supposed to be a scrape on the knee or a bruise, not this. Not this, biting, sinking torture. This wasn't supposed to be his. He wasn't meant for it

But, the man kept holding his wrist, almost cradling it like a child, aware he wasn't meant for pain. Then, with his other hand, he took Lukas's palm and slowly began forcing it up. His wrist flexed and bent to the man's will, until it reached its limit and force turned into pure agony. Lukas's rage flared. He wanted to hurt this man. To make him suffer. To make him scream. But panic gripped Lukas's mind freezing him. Fostering fear.

He was one of his people: brave, strong and steadfast. He was supposed to be invincible. But he wasn't. This pain, this pain was too much. It was too hard. He didn't want to be brave and strong anymore. All he wanted to do was curl into a corner and pray for the pain to leave him alone. Was he a coward for wanting the pain to stop?

Suddenly, there was a sickening snap and the bones in Lukas's wrist shattered like glass. He heard a scream, then he realized it was his own. The animalistic cry was his voice, twisting and mangled by pain. Warm, thick liquid was trailing down his arm and pooling at the tip of his elbow. It wasn't water, water didn't feel like that. Blood, he realized, his blood. At the end of his arm, he felt his wrist hanging limply. He tried to move it and agony laced through his veins. More blood dripped from his elbow.

The man chuckled, the sound as cruel as a knife's edge, and he took Lukas's other wrist into his hand. He struggled to break his still intact arm away, but the man kept his iron grip firm. The other rough hand placed itself on the inside of Lukas's palm and Lukas's could only squeeze his eyes shut. He wanted to give up. He wanted to give in. Anything to stop the pain. But giving in to the pain meant giving up his honor, the last thing he had left in this new, darkness-filled world.

Suddenly, there was a new voice. It was slightly lighter, calmer, almost more childish than the one, but with the same rolling tone. They must be speaking the same damn language. The voice disgusted him. It churned his stomach and filled him with familiar icky black hatred. Fury was consuming him again, blissfully covering the pain and replacing it with cold anger. This was just someone else to just laugh at him, cause him pain and shove his nose into the dirt.

The new voice came closer, but stopped when it reached the first. The two conversed in their rolling language, probably talking about him. They could be planning a horrible death for him or trying to decide which parts of him would be best to eat, and Lukas couldn't understand a damn word of it. He was furious. Furious and vengeful. The only thing he wanted to do was inflict pain. They had stripped him of everything that made him who he was and almost forced him to give up his last shred of pride, but at least he could put up some fight. If only he wasn't blind, then he could crush their bones through magic. The tables would be turned and they would be the ones screaming, while he would be the one laughing.

The lighter voice said something loudly, jolting Lukas away from his thoughts. The harsh one gave a quick scoff and replied with a short word before Lukas heard footsteps walking away from him. He wanted to sigh in relief, but only one man had walked away. The other was still in front of him, so Lukas kept glaring.

He felt the man approach him and lean in closer. The voice spoke quietly, foreign words coming out in almost-whispers. The tone sent shivers down his spine, the speech sounded a lot less rough now and almost gentle. It made Lukas relax and the glare began to drop from his face, until he realized what the voice was trying to do. It was the calm before the storm, again.

He was just about to spit in the face on this man before he felt fingers touch the back of his skull. Lukas froze and began to shake. He didn't want them to touch him. It made him feel so vulnerable and helpless, reminding him of just how far he had fallen. Although he knew that he had no hope of fighting back, he knew that he should be trying at least. He should be fighting like a wolf, but fear was holding him down and immobilizing every attempt for resistance.

Lukas waited for pain, but none came. Instead the fingers seemed to stay hovering behind his head, only brushing him slightly. Where was the pain? What the hell was the man doing with his head ? The fingers seemed to be fumbling with whatever was bathing his world in darkness instead of actually touching him. Then, his vision was flooded with light.

He could have laughed. He could have cried. He could have smiled in the pure bliss of sight, but he kept his face blank. There was still an enemy here, and he had so foolishly given him back his sight. Did the man want to die? Lukas didn't know, but he would be happy to kill him anyway.

He began to clear his mind, pushing all his emotions back and letting magic fill him. The feeling was so comforting after all the empty darkness he let himself sit in it for a minute. Then after about thirty seconds of union with the magic, it snapped and flickered out, the feeling of comfort slipping from Lukas's fingers just as quickly as it had come.

The heart crushing feeling of one of his plans failing filled him again. He was just too weak. Too damn weak. Not even strong enough to summon a damn flicker of some damn magic. He couldn't. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do the one damn thing that he was born to do ... the one thing that could save him.

Then, he heard a faint rustle of clothing in front of him and he looked up to see his captor standing over him, with a smile draped across his face. It was almost like the man was taunting him, his eyes mocked him with a vibrant gaze. Someday, he would kill this man. This man whose very life jeered at Lukas and made him feel insignificant.

He would just have to wait because, in time, he would get stronger. At this, Lukas couldn't help but smirk himself and he brought his eyes to the blue ones of his enemy. Finally, he had a strategy that wouldn't fail him and now he had the upper hand.

* * *

Matthias couldn't help, but be a little ticked. Even after he had given his troop explicit orders not to go near the little Norge he had tied up. Some dimwit had to go and play with it anyway. That Norge was his because he had won it after the battle… even though technically it was Tino who captured them, but that was beside the point. The point was that he had first dibs on the Norge and now it felt like someone had just stolen a flask of beer right out of his hand.

He didn't know what to expect when he decided to get rid of the blindfold around the captive's face. Call him crazy, but he sort of expected a bit of a thankful expression. After all, he had just valiantly rescued his little captive from having its other wrist broken. Then again, asking a monster to be thankful was probably pushing the limits. Matthias wasn't one hundred percent sure that it could even feel pain, so maybe hisvaliant rescue wasn't necessary to begin with.

Matthias couldn't help but sigh to himself and look up at the sky. These monsters were causing his brain to hurt. They were so simplistic, yet so complicated with such a strange mix of traits. They didn't have feelings or emotions, but they were able to form some kind of village. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that they were a perfectly normal community, just like any of the others that dotted the Earth. But these, these were the strangest monsters that he had ever seen. One moment, they seemed terrifying, ready to kill twenty men in a blink, the next they seemed completely defenseless.

He looked down and saw the captive glaring at him, which was the first semblance of emotion he had ever seen on its face. He couldn't help but stare and he realized that this was the first time he had ever really gotten a good look at the Norge's face. Yeah, he had seen most of it and he could tell that there was beauty there, but the creature's eyes had been left to his imagination. In his mind, he had thought that the monster would have steel-grey eyes, a cold color matching a cold exterior, but now he could clearly see that its eyes were caught between shades of purple and blue. They seemed to hold life in them, and if he wasn't sure that the creature was in fact a Norge, he would have said that there was passion behind its eyes. He kept staring into those eyes, completely transfixed by them. He couldn't look away, he didn't want to look away.

Then, he felt the air temperature slowly drop. Cold pressed against his skin and dripped into his blood, almost languidly. He saw the tiny smirk that the captive gave him, a relaxed, sadistic leer.

Immediately, alarms went off in Matthias's head. He had seen that look on many people before and it universally showed the same warning. It was the look that people wore when they had already won.

Matthias had seen it his whole life because it came with every chess game he played with his father. He was terrible at chess and both he and his father had realized that early on. He just could never understand how the pieces moved and why they had so many restrictions. He didn't get why the queen was the most powerful piece, when his own mother took no control of the kingdom. Most of all though, he couldn't understand why the king piece was so damn useless. He would struggle to find a strategy or just move his pieces in the right way, while his father would sit on the other side of the board smirking knowing that his son was bound to fail again. Matthias would always try so hard to beat his father and just wipe that smirk off his face, but he never even get close, let alone winning. Every move he would make would dig him deeper into a hole, while his father would be one step ahead of him. Every plan he made seemed fated to fail against his father's iron defensive strategies. Every single game ended in a humiliating defeat and his father shaking his head in distaste. He was forced through endless games, endless losses and endless looks of disappointment, because chess was a game of strategy, and he needed strategy if he ever hoped to be king. His father told him that he could never amount to anything if he never had a plan, and that if was wasn't even able to handle a simple game then he most certainly would never be able to claim the throne. He needed to become serious. He needed learn how to properly use people to his advantage. It was all tactics, tactics that Matthias could never learn, or rather he would never bring himself to learn. He learned a different lesson, though, through all those games of chess, the lesson that seemed to be the heart of his father's teachings: that anyone could be sacrificed to save the king and the game could never be won if both kings still stood.

And those two lessons, that supposedly made the basis of being king, scared the shit out of him.

Now, that same smirk had slithered its way on his captive's delicate features, that same smirk that had teased him all his life and waved the throne over his head. Anger was flaring through him at the sight of those cold eyes that reminded him of his father's. They just kept taunting him again and again. Because he wasn't good enough. Because he would never get anywhere. Because everything he did was wrong.

He slammed his hand forward and into the captive's face, covering its eyes because he couldn't take the mocking. His hand forced the Norge's head back and, with a loud thump, it collided into the wall behind it. Immediately, the Norge let out a cry of pain and began to tremble under Matthias' hand.

Again, he felt himself staring. It was disturbingly fascinating to watch such a strong creature cowering at his feet.

"Shit" Matthias mumbled under his breath, lifting his hand away from the captive's eyes. The creature slumped to the ground and curled in on itself, never tearing his eyes away from Matthias. He could see the captive trying to keep its face blank, fighting to look unfazed by pain. Matthias watched the struggling creature. The same beast that had haunted nightmares was now trembling before him and bound by simple ropes. How could he have been afraid of such a helpless thing? Yes, it had given him a dangerous look, but what had scared him more were the memories connected to it. He hadn't actually been afraid of the beast itself.

Even now, when he had just slammed the monster's head into a wall, it hadn't reacted. It had just curled up to protect itself, not making a sound of resistance or a motion of defiance. Matthias tilted his head. Had he done it? Had he tamed a fearsome Norge into quiet submission? No, he knew that it couldn't be that easy.

He crouched down, coming about eye level with the beast. It traced his every movement with its eyes and it scrunched more against the wall when he came closer. As it curled, he realized that it was cradling its injured arm into its chest like a baby. He reached out for the arm, wanting to see the shattered wrist, but the Norge growled and slapped his hand away. The creature wasn't completely broken after all. Matthias wasn't sure whether he should sigh or grin at the fact, but he did know that the monster's unwillingness would make this a hell of a lot more interesting.

He reached again, but the Norge slapped him again, this time with even more force and an accompanying snort.

"Now, that wasn't nice" he said, even though he was sure that the thing couldn't understand him, and he firmly cuffed the creature in the back of the head. Immediately, he knew that he had just hit the part of its head that slammed against the wall, because its cerulean eyes became unfocused. As the creature fought to regain orientation, Matthias snatched its wrist and pulled tattered limb away from its chest. When the Norge recovered and saw him holding its wrist its face instantly went blank and became frigid.

Matthias could tell that he was staring at a monster now. Any thoughts about these things having feelings quickly vanished from his mind, as he peered into the beast's heartless eyes. There was nothing in them. No life, no soul and certainly no emotion. It was the same look the she-devil had right before it caved a man's chest in. He saw the look of a calculating killer waiting for the right moment to massacre his troops.

It was this look that had scared dozens of his troops into deserting him on the mission to defeat the Norges, and now it was the look the Matthias had to banish from the creature. He really didn't know how, but he would. He was damn sure he would, because then finally he would have something to show his father. Right now, he only had two clues about how to tame these monsters. One clue was that it became more subdued when it was blind-folded, the other was that enough pain could break the creature's mask of ice.

But how much pain was enough? How much could these things stand before they broke and crumbled? Was it even possible to do that? For all he knew, the monsters could endure pain forever. It certainly looked like it could with all emotion hidden behind a stoic gaze. But everything had a breaking point, right? Yeah, everything did, even rocks. He was going to find the Norge's. Then, he was going to break it.

He started with the unbroken wrist of the beast, twisting it in a clockwise motion, while watching the monster keep its resolve. He was causing agonizing pain, every one of his movements caused the fragile ligaments to stretch and tear. Eventually, there was a snap and he felt the Norge's body try to flinch away from him. He looked up and, for a flash, he saw the Norge lost in excruciating pain. Then, as quickly as it came, the look was gone and replaced by the species's famous emotionless stare.

He moved on to the other hand and spread its digits out like a fan. He eyed the delicate looking fingers and chose the one he thought looked the best out of the bunch: the pinky. He put some pressure on it, not hurtful, but uncomfortable and he trying to see the beast's reaction. When he saw nothing, he kept increasing the force, waiting for some kind of sign that the Norge felt pain. He jolted when he heard a snap and looked down to see the pinky laying broken between his fingers. Were fingers supposed to break that easy? He had never broken a human's finger, so he didn't know their fragility.

He shrugged to himself and went to the fourth finger. His gaze flickered up to meet the other's. Its eyes were wavering, so that's what it took to break a monster. A kick, a cut, two wrists and a few fingers. With a morbid little smirk, he broke the fourth finger quickly and with a definite crack. His eyes stayed glued to the Norges'. It was like watching ice melt, slow and steady. When he took the third finger, he could see the panic flash through those blue-purple eyes. When he had the second finger, the Norge's face kept twitching, the icy mask slowing peeling away. And, by the time he was at the thumb, the Norge was trembling.

He played with the thumb that he was about to break and met the monster's eyes. They were pleading, hoping, begging for just a bit of reprieve from the pain. The Norge did feel pain. Matthias was sure of it, because what other sensation could break a beast? He held the thumb in front of him, looking between the finger and the eyes. Then, with the smallest of movements, the Norge shook its head in the universal "no". He froze. It shook its head more, trying to say no to more misery, trying to get its message across. Slowly, Matthias raised a finger and pointed to the monster's thumb, this time him shaking his head. The Norge looked back at him. Its eyes still were terrified, but there was confusion mixed in too. Slowly, the thing's eyes grew a little more focused as it tried to figure out what Matthias was doing. The captain shook his head more and kept indicating the thumb. Eventually, The Norge caught on to what he was doing and, tentatively, it shook its head. Matthias couldn't help the glorious smile that instantly came to his lips.

This was just the first step. The first step to taming the Norge, and, more importantly, the first step to proving himself to his father. It was a necessary step. He rose and stretched his back, feeling sore ligaments contract and hearing joints snap under his skin.

The monster wouldn't be easy to tame, that's for sure. The creature's eyes almost seemed to be hanging in between panic and bravery. Oh, yes, Matthias would have a fun time dealing with this Norge. Anyways, if this the creature ever became too much for him to handle, he could always trade with Tino. The larger Norge certainly seemed better and easier to train, after all it never made any defiant motion.

Matthias looked back at the Norge. It was his key to finally being able take the crown. It was his very future. But if the Norge was his future, it didn't look like much of a future. The Norge just looked beaten. Beaten, bruised and bloody. Red life still dripping on ground. Expressionless face silent and slack. Fear grounded in its eyes. Human fear. Human emotion.

No. That was impossible. Simply impossible.

**Author's Note: First, thank you all for reading, even though I majority of you don't read this AN. I'd like to ask you all to please review, because these chapters really are a tedious process and take hours of dedication. I'm not the only one dedicated either, because it's my Beta, Nimphy-Ryuu-Chan, who really cleans up these chapters and makes them readable. She's like the Santa to your Christmas. I'm sorry there is long gaps between chapters, but there really isn't a big way to avoid that. Next chapter will hopefully be sort of soon.**

**Please Review!**

**Keep Writing,**

**Silver**


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